Mary opened her letter. It was from the doctor, inviting Mary and the children to call upon his wife later that morning. Her spirits rose at the prospect. It had been a very long time since she had made a social call of any description. And it would be good for the children to meet some playmates.
‘Ellen,’ she called, as the maid opened the door, ‘how far is the village?’
Ellen retraced her steps to Mary’s side. Mary waved the notepaper.
‘I have an invitation to visit Mrs Preece this morning, with the children.’
‘Ah, bless ’em, ma’am, they’ll have a lovely time playing with the doctor’s bairns, they will, aye. ’Tis a tidy step, though. I’m thinking young Emily will find it a mite far for her little legs. I’ll speak to Shorey. The hosses could do with the exercise, he’s forever complaining they grow fat, with too much grass and not enough work.’
‘Oh, no, please, Ellen. I have no wish to be a nuisance. Shorey and Hooper were planning to sort the sheep for market—they have enough to do.’
‘Nonsense. It’ll be no bother at all. They can sort the sheep this afternoon. What time will you be wanting the carriage?’
Mary hesitated and Ellen tutted. ‘Mrs Vale, with all you have done for us, dinna be feeling guilty for needing a favour. Will eleven o’clock suit?’
Mary capitulated. ‘Thank you, Ellen. Could you also tell Mrs Lindley I wish to speak with her? I’ll come to the kitchen as soon as I’ve finished breakfast.’
‘As you wish, ma’am. I might warn you—she’s not in the best of takes this morning. The master called her to his room first thing. Happen you’ll know what that was about, aye?’ Ellen left the room without waiting for a reply.
* * *
Mary was not looking forward to tackling Mrs Lindley about changes to what was, after all, her domain. Although the cook was welcoming in very many ways, she had made it clear from the start she did not appreciate advice from anyone, no matter how well meaning. Mary was not surprised to find her at the kitchen table, massive forearms coated in flour, pummelling bread dough whilst she muttered under her breath. She shot a look at Mary from beneath lowered brows as she entered the room.
‘Morning, ma’am,’ she said. ‘Got to make sure all the air’s knocked out.’ She pulled the dough towards her, stretching and folding it before slamming her fist into it.
‘Indeed.’ Mary hovered by the door, whilst Mrs Lindley pointedly ignored her, until she realised delay would not improve the cook’s mood. ‘I understand you have spoken to Lord Rothley this morning already, Lindy?’ She used the pet name the children had coined for the cook and was rewarded by a slightly less hostile glance than before.
‘I have.’ The cook’s tone was still grim. ‘Seems I’m to take my orders from you now. ma’am.’
‘No, no, that is not the case at all. I have no wish to interfere with your day-to-day running of the household, I only thought to lighten your load. Can we not give my way a try and you can see what you think? Just think of the benefits: fewer fires, less dusting and polishing, less sweeping. Would that not help all of you?’
‘Hmmph!’ Mrs Lindley shaped the dough before placing it on a tray near the fire to rise. She dusted her hands, then wiped them down her apron.
Mary walked over to her. ‘Come on, Lindy. Give it a try. What do you say?’
‘Seems I’ve got no choice in the matter seein’ as you saw fit to go to his lordship over my head. Where is it you want us to start?’
‘I am going out this morning, to visit the doctor’s wife. Mayhap we could start with the dining room this afternoon?’
Mrs Lindley glared at Mary. ‘I should prefer to get on with it. There’s no need for you to help. The dining room it is, then. I’ll ask Mr Trant to help get the dust covers from the attic. Now, if you’ll excuse me, some of us have work to do.’
She marched over to the larder and disappeared inside. Mary could hear her rattling and banging around. She had asked Lucas to intervene with Mrs Lindley on impulse and now she had offended her. She hoped the housekeeper’s wrath would not last too long, or her last few days at the Hall could prove most uncomfortable.
Chapter Ten
‘Good morning. Have you finished your breakfast?’
Lucas opened his eyes as the door to his bedchamber opened. It was Mary. He forced himself more upright in the bed, causing the crockery on his tray to clash as the mattress dipped. He had been on the verge of dropping off to sleep again, but he would not admit that to Mary. He would far rather have her company than yet another doze.
‘I understand from Trant that you do not wish to go to the Blue Room until after luncheon?’ Mary went on as she picked up the tray.
She made no attempt to place it on the table, instead standing with it in her hands whilst she studied Lucas, her head tilted to one side. Then she glanced down at the tray.
‘Excellent,’ she said, smiling at the sight of two empty plates and an empty cup. ‘Your appetite appears to have perked up since last night.’
‘Indeed.’ What was she up to? She was behaving most oddly and looked positively on edge. ‘Do you intend to hold that tray indefinitely, Mary? Why don’t you put it on the table? You look as though you cannot wait to scurry away.’
‘Very well.’ She walked to the end of the bed and deposited the tray before returning to Lucas’s side. ‘Is that better?’
‘What are you up to this time, Mary? Are you planning another surprise? Incidentally, I’ve spoken to Mrs Lindley this morning about your plans.’
Mary’s fair cheeks turned pink. She looked even more furtive than before. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I have just spoken to her in the kitchen.’
‘Has she demanded your help?’ Lucas would not allow his staff to bully Mary. ‘If she has, you must tell me. I will—’
‘No, no, quite the contrary; in fact, she doesn’t seem to want my help at all. I would appear to be quite redundant. And that is why—if you do not object, that is—I should like your permission to use the carriage to go into the village this morning.’
Her blue eyes were fixed on a point by his right ear. She looked secretive and guilty, and...
‘Who are you going to meet?’ he growled. Quite apart from the unexpected flare of jealousy, he was dismayed he would not see Mary for the rest of the morning.
‘Mrs Preece.’
Her blue eyes were wide and innocent and Lucas felt a slap of shame that he had instantly imagined the worst of her motives. He hoped Mary had not noticed his suspicions.
‘I received a letter this morning, inviting me to call.’ She pinned him with a piercing look. ‘You can ask Shorey where he takes me, if you do not believe me.’
‘Why should I not believe you?’ he asked, in what he hoped was a nonchalant way.
‘Doctor Preece told me the other day that his wife would appreciate a visit. She is...she is unable to pay social calls at the moment.’
‘She is with child, is she not?’
‘Yes.’
The furtive look was back. Lucas could not fathom it. Mayhap Mary was embarrassed discussing such intimate matters, but it seemed unlikely. She had gone to collect the tray again and was standing looking at him expectantly.
‘Of course you may use the carriage.’
What else could he say? He could hardly keep her prisoner at the Hall, much as that idea appealed whenever he thought about her leaving to continue her journey.
Mary beamed. ‘Thank you. I shall see you later.’
After she had gone, Lucas pondered his growing reliance on her. True, he looked forward to her visits but, surely, only because he was still weak and convalescing? Once he was up and about, he would resume his old life and would no longer crave her company and, with his friendship with Rob rekindled, his life would be less lonely than before. His thought processes seized as he considered that last sentiment. It was true: he had been lonely, particularly since his mother had been away, but it was a state of his own making. He had, quite deliber
ately, eschewed all company since his return to the Hall. In fact, he had kept all his acquaintances at arm’s length since Julia...
With a muttered exclamation he pushed the bedcovers back and eased his legs over the side of the bed. He was beggared if he was going to lie in bed, useless and helpless, whilst that witch invaded his thoughts. Her image floated into his consciousness...wavered...shimmered...and transformed into another. Mary! A curse on all women! They played havoc with a man’s peace of mind until he could no longer think straight.
He pushed back against the bed, levering himself to his feet, giving his shaky muscles time to become accustomed to his weight. As soon as he felt steady he shuffled towards the fireside chair. His legs and hips were stiff from lack of use and his thigh grumbled in the background, but it was not the red-hot agony that had tormented him when he had awoken after his fever. He must take that as a good sign. He lowered himself into the chair gingerly. Not too bad. At least he had managed to walk, an improvement on yesterday.
Mary invaded his thoughts once more. He could not fathom the effect she had on him. She was an enigma, presenting her calm and sensible face to the world, but he had caught glimpses of a different person beneath the surface—a complex mix of fear and courage, virtue and passion, uncertainty and fun.
Where was she heading? What were her secrets? And why did he sometimes catch a hint of fear in those beautiful eyes of hers? What was she scared of? Him? Surely not, for she had shown she was unafraid to stand up to him when necessary. Mayhap she feared the passion within her? For passion there was—passion he longed to sample—but his Mary evidently considered it wrong to capitulate to her base feelings.
His Mary? He stared into the flames. He wanted her, but did he want more than a dalliance? No! His every fibre screamed denial. He had sworn to never surrender his heart to another woman. Restless, he stood up and limped over to the window. Bracing his hands against the frame, he gazed unseeingly through the glass until he heard the door open behind him.
‘My lord!’
With a sigh, Lucas turned from the window and allowed Trant to help him back to bed. He was no closer to understanding his true feelings—or intentions—towards Mary. Exhausted, he rolled on to his side and closed his eyes.
* * *
‘You’ve been gone a long time. Whatever can you find to talk about all this time? How long have you been back?’
Mary glanced at Lucas as she closed the door, gauging his mood. He sounded irritable. His expression was not encouraging. She heaved a silent sigh. She had spent a wonderful few hours with Jenny Preece, whilst the children played together.
Since then, however, she’d had to endure the cold shoulder from Mrs Lindley who had underlined her displeasure by serving a particularly lavish luncheon to Mary in the morning room, because the dining room was now under wraps and the small parlour was not yet ready to take its place. Together with the constant reproachful looks from Ellen, Susan and Trant—all of whom had spent the entire morning on the receiving end of Mrs Lindley’s bile—Mary had been relieved to escape to the Blue Room, where Lucas was, once again, ensconced on the chaise longue.
Judging by his growled interrogation, however, the bad humour seemed to be infectious.
‘I returned to the Hall just before luncheon,’ Mary replied, vowing to ignore his disgruntled tone, ‘as you must know, for I am aware Shorey came straight up here to help move you to this room. And I had a delightful time visiting Mrs Preece, thank you so much for asking. Are you acquainted with her?’
‘I’ve not had that pleasure,’ came the sardonic reply.
She had known what his answer would be, having been told the same by Jenny, who had wasted no time in detailing Rothley’s reclusive behaviour over the past two years and in speculating as to its cause. Mary had been fascinated by her tales of the Rothley family, much of which tallied with the stories she had overheard in her formative years. Any guilt she felt in indulging in such gossip had been allayed by convincing herself the more she heard of Lucas’s debauched lifestyle, the less likely she would be to succumb to his allure.
That now seemed a forlorn hope. The instant she had set eyes on him her stomach had performed its now-customary swoop as her heart skipped behind her ribcage. She was now so used to his effect on her that she could at least be confident of hiding her reactions.
‘What would you like to do? Do you want to finish looking at the ledgers? I cannot promise any further ideas, but you may at least set your mind at rest that all is up to date.’
He was appraising her, sweeping her with his black eyes and her skin tightened into goosebumps. ‘Shall I bring...?’
He pushed the covering from his legs and swung them over the side of the chaise longue. A fleeting frown crossed his face. Mary hurried to his side.
‘Be careful. You mustn’t aggravate your injuries.’ She began to push him back, but he resisted.
‘I walked without any help earlier.’
Mary bit back a gasp. ‘All the way from your bedchamber?’
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘Earlier, in my room. I walked to the window on my own.’
Mary frowned. ‘Was Trant there in case...?’
‘I am perfectly capable of making it to the table without making a song and dance about it,’ he growled as he stood.
Mary jerked back as if scalded. Why so venomous? She had only been trying to help.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘Just for me?’ She nudged into position, by his side. ‘Please?’
He sighed, slinging his arm over her shoulder. She nearly buckled under his weight and suspected he was making his point. They shuffled slowly across the room. She sighed with relief when they reached the table and he sat down, pulling the ledgers towards him. Mary fetched another chair and sat beside him, waiting for him to open the ledger.
He made no effort to get started. Instead he looked sideways at her. Sighed.
‘Sorry,’ he said in a gruff voice. ‘That was not very handsome of me, was it?’
Mary shrugged, pretending nonchalance.
‘I’m pleased you spent a pleasant morning with Mrs Preece. Truly. It has done you good—put the roses back in your cheeks. You don’t get enough fresh air.’
She laughed. ‘That is because I am here to care for you. And that means staying indoors.’
The instant the words left her lips she realised her mistake. She stole a look at his puzzled frown.
‘But what about the times you are not with me? You do not spend every minute of the day up here. What do you do then?’
‘Oh,’ she said airily, ‘there is always something to be done: mending, paperwork...speaking of which...’ She flipped open the ledger.
‘What did you talk about this morning? Did I figure in your cosy chat? Did Mrs Preece spill my secrets?’
Laughter bubbled to the surface. ‘I dare say she might have, if they were not secrets,’ Mary said. ‘To set your mind at rest, yes, you did figure in the conversation, but only long enough for us both to admit we knew nothing about you.’
‘Hmmph.’ Lucas slid the ledger closer and bent his head to peruse the columns of figures.
Mary studied him surreptitiously. She had been a touch economical with the truth, for they had discussed Lucas for longer than she had suggested, but it was rumour and innuendo, not facts, they had dealt in. How little she knew of him. She could not even be sure the man she was coming to know revealed his true nature. His behaviour did not tally with his reputation as a dissolute rake. Had the tales of his past been wildly exaggerated, or was he a changed man?
They sat close, not quite touching, heat radiating from his body. One touch and she could melt in his arms. But she wouldn’t. She remained outwardly still, not wanting to draw his attention, but inside she quivered like a bow that had been drawn tight, ready to snap back and let its arrow fly. The room was so silent she could hear the faint shouts of the men outside as they handled the sheep. After several minutes, Lucas lifted his head.
‘I
have had enough of these. Everything seems in order. Thank you.’ Mary’s breath caught at his smile. ‘I can hear Shorey and Hooper outside.’ He pushed back his chair. ‘I have a yen to look out and see what they are about. Will you help me, Mary?’
Mary shot to her feet and fitted her shoulder beneath his arm to help him rise. They moved slowly towards the window overlooking the side of the house. When they reached it Lucas braced his other hand on the windowsill, easing his weight on her, leaving his other arm across her shoulders. Shivers spangled her skin as he toyed with a tendril of hair behind her ear.
After several minutes watching the men herding the sheep, separating them into two flocks with the aid of dogs and hurdles, Lucas tightened his arm, hugging Mary briefly against him.
‘I will rest now, Mary. Thank you for your help.’
She felt awkward, acutely aware of the undercurrents. There were so many words and emotions flowing beneath the surface it was nigh on impossible to act, or even breathe, normally. Her heart beat a frantic tattoo as she helped him back to the chaise longue, every step an agony of apprehension, every breath a ragged triumph.
When he was at last settled, the blanket pulled up to cover his legs, she said, ‘Is there anything else you would like me to do, sir?’
He captured her gaze and raised one brow. She felt the ready blush rise up her neck and scorch her cheeks.
‘You called me Lucas last night.’
‘What? I mean, I beg your pardon?’
He was playing that silence game again. ‘I did not! No, I would not...I am certain I did not...you are saying that to tease me. I would...’ the words dried up as Mary registered the desire that flared in his eyes.
She tore her gaze from his.
You are an available female. He is interested only in the flesh, in the physical. He does not want love, or a companion. He has no need of you, Sensible Mary!
Mary and the Marquis Page 10